strawberry swing

it was a sudden jolt in the chest, a momentary tug at the heartstring, that byun baekhyun knew he’d fallen deep into the confines of oh sehun’s charm. ‘junmyeon-hyung,’ he starts one evening, unsteady under the leader’s curious glance. ‘it’s sehun—it’s sehun.’

kyungsoo stops singing. jongin’s dance steps come to halt. and chanyeol drops his guitar.

it wasn’t much of a problem at first, with the four members swearing not to spill the main vocalist’s secret, but it goes out-of-hand when baekhyun walks through walls at the mere sight of sehun, or when his singing goes beyond the normal octave, much to kyungsoo’s dismay.

‘it’s just the—err, the beagle—beagle line syndrome working overtime,’ chanyeol laughs nervously at sehun’s query a few mornings after. ‘i mean, he has an image to keep, you know—it’s for fanservice, maknae—ha, ha… ha!’

chanyeol fidgets. sehun isn’t satisfied.

with promotions coming to a finish, and the arrival of the six other members bustling through morning routines and elbowing for mirror time, baekhyun grows more wary. he trips and staggers and falls much harder (quite literally and figuratively so, as sehun’s smiles grow more crooked and striking), but alas, all humor is lost when luhan notices. but so does yifan.

‘it’s sehun, isn’t?’ baekhyun wanted to punch his hyungs’ faces in, albeit luhan’s wickedly sweet grin and yifan’s affectionate cajoling one afternoon—‘sehun of all people.’

‘hyung, you called for me?’

.

baekhyun almost jumps out of his skin when the maknae walks in from behind, rubbing sleep off his eyes, and , , —hyung, baekhyun mouths towards them, eyes just as wide with panic as his. please.

‘oh!’ luhan quicky recovers, ‘we were thinking of going out for bubble tea. wanna come with?’

sehun’s eyes light up. ‘i’ll go get ready!’

it is only when they leave that baekhyun realizes he’s been holding his breath in.

‘you’re kidding, right?’ baekhyun doesn’t know what hit him when zitao bursts out laughing in soundless shakes upon hearing the news, sharp intakes of breath echoing in the empty practice room, he feared the younger man had lost his mind.

‘i wish i was, really,’ baekhyun hugs his knees to his chest, head lowered in sheer humiliation. ‘you are not to tell him, zitao, or i swear to your god, i’ll chop your ing balls off publicly and sell them on ebay for the price of your head.’

‘aigoo, sogogi,’ zitao snorts, clearly entertained, and ruffles his hair (‘that’s sogogi-hyung for you,’) rather fondly. ‘you’re growing up fast! do you need tips on how to make him swoon, sweep him off his feet? because i know a few tricks!’

baekhyun groans, palming his burning face in defeat, and declines.

(sometimes, baekhyun tiptoes into sehun’s room in the first of morn, purposely setting his alarm an hour prior to the designated wake-up call to kneel before the dreaming lad, sighs soft as his fingers graze over cheekbones, tucking locks behind his ears. sehun would stir, almost as if leaning into his touch, and baekhyun would lean over with a kiss on his temple before he pads away quietly.

sometimes, sehun would wonder why his bowl of lucky charms would have extra marshmallows come breakfast, thinking it’d been secretly prepped by a thoughtful kyungsoo, or how the sweetness of his bubble tea caters to his liking despite management’s strict diet regimen, smiling to yifan’s direction because he’d been spoiled by his hyung once again. other times, he finds candy in the pockets of his jeans, small bags of jelly beans or gummy bears wedged in between the slits on his jacket.

sometimes, he wakes up to stillness, conversations from outside in hushed tones over the hum of the morning news, and he silently thanks junmyeon for his consideration before slumping further down into his blanket, falling back asleep.

and sometimes, in the dead of night, baekhyun’s lips linger above sehun’s own, close enough to count his lashes, hear his dreams, and claim him as his own if he leans in any further. but when reality—harsh and unsettling—presses heavy on baekhyun’s skin, he pulls away and leaves with a hint of regret, sehun doesn’t deserve this, a piece of him left with each hurried step to the door.)

baekhyun almost jumps out of his skin when he walks in on sehun one evening, sporting only a flimsy wife-beater and a pair of mickey mouse pajama pants. ‘yo, hyung.’

his first instinct had been to run away, i didn’t see anything, but before baekhyun could even take a step to the door, sehun waves a bottle of nose pack in front of his face and takes his hand to sit atop the bathroom sink. he uses a finger to spread a pea-sized amount onto baekhyun’s nose, working his way from the bridge down to the tip in languid motions. baekhyun remains solid under his touch, stiff and unbreathing, and the close proximity has him almost gasping for air.

‘you’re awfully quiet,’ sehun speaks, albeit in whisper, a teasing smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. baekhyun remains silent as he chews on his lower lip in unmasked apprehension. ‘say something, hyung, i’m not used to your lack of wit!’

a beat, then—‘uhmm, do you,’ baekhyun starts, maybe want to go out with me? ‘maybe want to—err,’ it should be easy, he thinks, it could lead to something beautiful. but with sehun merely inches away, coaxing him with a smile to move on, baekhyun cowers, folds himself in and bites his tongue. ‘i—’

there is a hint of worry in sehun’s expression, masked into something unreadable. he feels baekhyun’s stiffness, peels what is left of the mask warily from the latter’s nose. baekhyun has his head down, and sehun wonders when his hyung had gotten so small, so seemingly vulnerable. ‘tell me when you’re ready,’ sehun murmurs almost dolefully, ‘okay?’

baekhyun spares him a puzzled glance, but before sehun straightens up to leave, he grazes a kiss on baekhyun’s cheek—light, fleeting—and gives his hyung’s hand a gentle squeeze. baekhyun is left stunned and unmoving, save for his fingers lingering over where sehun’s lips had touched.

(yixing finds baekhyun separating marshmallows from a bowl of lucky charms for the twenty-fourth time in eight weeks. ‘baekhyun,’ he calls out, ‘you can’t keep hiding like this forever.’ and baekhyun knows he’s right, but chooses to ignore him because i can’t risk it, i could lose him—i could lose all of this.

he is teased for his cowardice, despite claiming to be fearless, when jongdae catches him rummaging through sehun’s closet in an attempt to hide a bar of snickers in the pocket of his favorite hoodie. ‘he could get hungry,’ baekhyun raises his defenses. ‘a hungry maknae is an evil maknae. i am saving you from his wrath, if not anything.’

minseok merely watches him with raised eyebrows as he passes the maknae a fresh towel and an unopened bottle of water in between dance practice, a timid smile quirking baekhyun’s lips, cheeks warm and pink, and smile perpetual.)

‘hyung.’

baekhyun stiffens at the familiarity of the voice, fingers freezing over piano keys and a half-finished song—run, his mind tells him but his feet are glued to the floor, mind going haywire as careful footsteps draw nearer from behind.

in an abrupt gesture to leave, baekhyun collides with the taller man, sending them both in a tangle of limbs and bruised foreheads across the linoleum. ‘a-are you alright?’ baekhyun groans, rubbing a hand across his forehead as he sits up. when sehun makes no motion to do the same, baekhyun somewhat panics. ‘y-yah—’

he is pulled brusquely back towards the floor by the wrist, landing with his chest atop sehun’s, and a mere few inches from the latter’s bemused face. baekhyun bites back a groan, eyes wide and calculating because this isn’t supposed to happen, not like this.

‘you like me, don’t you?’

baekhyun is taken aback by the question, though seemingly rhetorical. the warmth on his cheeks fall to his stomach, bursting into butterflies and a fit of dizzy spells. ‘w-wha—’

as if expecting his hyung’s hesitation, but the revelation as plain as day, written all over his face. sehun wraps an arm around baekhyun’s waist, holding him close with promise and conviction, eyes gleaming with fondness under the flourescent light. ‘hey,’ he whispers, a hair’s breadth away from baekhyun’s lips, from something beautiful. ‘i like you, too.’

it is still baekhyun who separates marshmallows from a bowl to another, keeps a candy bar in the pockets of his jeans, and bargains for extra sleeping hours. it is still baekhyun who throws sehun a towel and a bottle of water when practice drains the life out of them, a kiss or two shared in the shadows of fatigue.

but this time around, it is sehun he wakes up to in the morning, the first rays of the morning sun warm on the curves of the maknae’s cheeks. it is sehun he elbows with for mirror time and impromptu make-up sessions, belting so now i come to you with open arms ‘til yifan has to kick them out of the vanity. it is sehun who returns his kisses, catching him safe and snug in his arms, who makes him believe in the possibility of forever and a day.

(chanyeol walks in on them sleeping on the sofa one morning just as the sun begins to rise, smiling through bleary eyes like he’d won the lottery and every possible music award ever granted by man at the sight of baekhyun buried deep and snug in sehun’s chest. the sound of soft snores almost lulls chanyeol back to sleep, rocking unsteadily on his heels but is caught by yifan before he falls thoroughly on his back.

‘looks familiar, eh?’ yifan whispers, arm steadying chanyeol by the shoulders. chanyeol has never seen them sleep so serenely as he drapes the blanket from the floor over his friends. he makes his way gingerly back to yifan’s side, fingers lacing around the taller man’s own.

‘yeah.’)

; chills run down my spine as our fingers entwine,

& your sighs harmonize with mine